


build the bridges up again

by bizarrebird



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, RvB Kinkmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizarrebird/pseuds/bizarrebird
Summary: RvB Kinkmas: Wash and Tucker take care of each other. Today, it's Tucker's turn.





	build the bridges up again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltsanford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/gifts).



> My kinkmas prompt fill for saltsanford! I haven't written much smut before, so this was kinda fun! Salt wanted tuckington bondage with lots of trust, so I did my best to deliver!

Slow isn’t something Tucker’s usually good at, particularly in the bedroom. It’s not something that’s been, well… a priority before. A lifetime ago, the plans were always, get in (literally--bow chicka bow wow), get off, and maybe stick around to cuddle for like five minutes if they don’t hate each other yet. 

But this is different. Wash is different. He likes slow, needs it. And well… Tucker would be a pretty shitty boyfriend--partner--lover--whatever the fuck they are. They’ve been doing this too long to worry about labels. They are what they are, and it works. 

And there’s some days when Wash needs it more than others. 

He spots the look in the morning meeting. Normally, Wash has this kind of intense hyper focus, even in meetings where he doesn’t say much, and he gets this thoughtful little furrow in between his eyebrows that Tucker loves. Today, he looks fucking wrecked and not in a sexy way. 

They don’t always share a room at night, especially when it’s humid and gross out, because Tucker will die under the mountain of blankets Wash always insists upon. And Wash doesn’t always need someone there to make sure he gets some actual sleep, but he does way, way better with another body keeping him grounded and Tucker’s pretty damn sure that not having that the night before is why he looks like a zombie now. 

Under his freckles, he’s more pale than usual, and the bags under his eyes are so bad, it looks like he’s been punched in the face. Wash doesn’t have the usual morning routine that some people do, but most of the time, he tries to at least comb his hair. Today he’s a disheveled mess. And so, so far from the fun kind. If Wash is tired enough to walk around looking like that, shit’s definitely messed up. 

Tucker manages to catch Wash’s eye exactly once through the whole excruciating four hours of back and forth arguing that neither of them really seem to be needed for. He thinks Wash is trying to give him a reassuring smile, but it looks more like a pained grimace. One of his eyebrows rises and he tilts his head ever so slightly and gets a faint headshake in return like he always does when avoiding answering if he’s okay. 

He catches Wash on the way out, grabbing the end of his sleeve and tugging just enough to get Wash to follow him into a mostly deserted corridor. There’s a glance around before Tucker reaches out.

It’s not like they’re a secret by now, he’s pretty sure half the damn planet was betting on when they’d finally get together, but Wash likes his privacy. Their privacy. And Tucker gets that, he really does. Because there’s certain things that are just for the two of them. Things no one else gets to see. 

Like the way Wash moves into him willingly, and how he sags into him when Tucker reaches up and lets a hand curl around the back of his neck. There’s a strange sort of feeling, one he’s never really been able to put a name to, about the fact that if anyone else even tried that on Wash, they’d probably end up out cold a dozen feet away. But he gets to.

He gets this part of Wash that’s always there behind a dozen walls of carefully constructed self preservation techniques, paranoia, and a moat filled up with anxiety and electric eels. 

Tugging gently, because the scarred up mess of skin there still has enough feeling to fuck Wash up for days if he presses wrong, Tucker guides Wash down to rest his forehead on his shoulder. “Did you get any sleep last night, dude?”

There’s a sigh. They’ve done this too many times for him to buy it if Wash lies, so when he still does, Tucker knows they’re about to start down a shitty road. He almost holds his breath, waiting to see how this’ll go. 

“Not really.” At least he’s being honest. Tucker can work with that. The worst is when Wash gets stubborn and insists and insists and insists that he’s fine. He hasn’t done that in ages, but the fight that happened after the last time still makes Tucker worry. 

“Nightmares?”

Another sigh. Tucker curses under his breath and turns to press his lips to Wash’s temple. “You didn’t sleep much the night before either. Fuck, I’ve gotta get the AC fixed in my room.”

“It’s alright, I don’t need--”

“Dude, if you’re gonna tell me you don’t need sleep, I think you’re gonna need to go have a serious talk with Dr. Grey.” His hand slides up into Wash’s hair, lightly dragging his nails over his scalp. “You got anything going on tonight?”

Wash shakes his head faintly and lets out a little hum, clearly wanting Tucker’s hand to stay right where it is. “Not that I can think of.”

“Good. Then meet me in your room at… uh, let’s go with six. I’m gonna bring the good shit.”

“You don’t have to--” Wash starts to say, like he always does after all this time. At this point, Tucker’s pretty sure it’s just an automatic thing, something Wash couldn’t stop even if he wanted to and that makes something in his gut twist unpleasantly. But he’s so, so not doing the doom and gloom and still there self hatred thing right now, so he cuts him off.

“I  _ want _ to.” And his voice is a little lower now, a little firmer, just the right tone to make Wash shiver as he leans against him more. Good. He turns his head a little, lips brushing Wash’s ear. “I want to fucking wreck you, dude.”

Wash makes this little whimpery noise and Tucker’s so, so fucking tempted to just slam him against the wall right there. They haven’t done that in ages, not since the last time when he’d just shoved his hands down Wash’s pants right as Grif walked around the corner. Tucker didn’t hear the end of it for a month, so he’s just going to keep it mostly tame for now. 

“It’s gonna be so good, Wash. Anything special you want?” He always asks, but very, very rarely gets an answer to that. Wash is still learning he can ask for things. 

“Well… I did get--um, find something.” Wash’s voice is halting, but still with that very deliberate composure. “It’s new. Um, we don’t have to, but… I thought we could try it.”

Holy shit. Tucker has to fight down a massive grin as he nods. “Sure, I’m up for whatever. What is it? No, wait, don’t tell me. I wanna wait and see.”

Wash lets out a little huff of a laugh, pressing his forehead into the crook of Tucker’s neck. “It’s not really anything exciting, just something I’ve wanted to try.”

“Then we’re so using whatever it is.” Because this is like… maybe the fourth time ever Wash has actually suggested something new, and the last time they tried one of his ideas Tucker had bent Wash over a desk and ended up coming so hard he almost blacked out for a second. So whatever this is, he’s so up for it. 

Duty calls in pings from their datapads, so Tucker kisses Wash’s temple again before letting him rush off to deal with whatever it is that needs his attention. 

He tries to stay focused on the next four meetings he’s supposed to sit through, but Tucker’s mind keeps drifting, too many plans flitting through his head. There’s so many options, but with the way Wash was earlier, he needs to come up with something good, something that he’s going to be feeling for days. 

Tucker gets to Wash’s room ten minutes early, box of tricks tucked under one arm. It’s not surprising that Wash isn’t there yet. Knowing him, he’s going to be there at six exactly. Tucker’s pretty sure one time he caught Wash waiting outside a meeting staring at the time on his datapad so he could walk in the second the clock ticked over to the next hour. So he’s got a little time to think and get things picked out. 

After some deliberation, he settles on the nice silky rope Wash had surprised him with on Valentine’s Day, because ‘I want you to tie me to your bed and fuck me till I can’t walk straight’ is so, so much better than any sappy card. There’s a few other things he’s still trying to decide on when the door slides open and familiar footsteps wander in. Tucker hears a yawn behind him as the door shuts again and then Wash’s arms are around his shoulders, his comforting weight pressed against his back. 

Tucker reaches up, hooking his arm around to drag his fingers through Wash’s hair. There’s a noise against his neck that’s almost a purr as Wash nuzzles into him. He can still feel the tension in Wash’s frame, holding himself a little too still, a little too straight, not quite leaning into Tucker like he does when he’s finally figured out how to relax for once. 

He’s faking, trying to act less wound up and anxious than he is. Well, Tucker’s been here enough times to know just how to fix that. 

Calling him out never works, so Tucker just turns slowly in Wash’s arms until he’s got a good angle to lean up and pull him into a kiss. Wash’s mouth is warm and pliant against his, putting up no resistance as Tucker takes control. His teeth lightly catch Wash’s lower lip and he tugs just enough, just on the right side of painful to make Wash shudder and grip at him, fingers curling tight into the fabric of his shirt. 

One hand stays in Wash’s hair, keeping up with the slight straining pull. Wash always loves that. He loves little bruises on his skin, and marks all over his ass, and a slight soreness that he’s going to be feeling for days--the bone deep ache of being pushed to his limits. And Tucker gets that. It’s the same mentality Wash has in training that leaves every inch of him aching before they get to one of their rooms and careful hands covered in scars work at sore muscles until Tucker’s ready to melt into his bed. 

They take care of each other that way. Today, it’s his turn. 

Tucker guides him around and steers them back toward Wash’s bed, climbing onto his lap once Wash sinks back onto the sheets. For a while they just kiss. It doesn’t start particularly heated, just the soft press of lips against lips. But then Tucker’s hands start to wander as he lightly pushes at Wash’s chest, urging him to lie back against the mattress. 

And Wash does. 

He lies back, looking up at Tucker through his barely there blonde eyelashes. Wash’s mouth is already red, lips kiss swollen and spit slick and Tucker wants to press in again, to put those lips to good use. He will. Later. 

For now, he turns his attention to Wash’s neck. A tug to graying hair has Wash arching and groaning beneath him as he bares the sensitive skin of his throat to Tucker’s teeth. Tucker bites at a cluster of freckles just under Wash’s jaw, pressure just toeing that line between pain and pleasure. Wash’s breath grows uneven, little whines and choked off noises spilling out of him. His hands wind into Tucker’s hair and pull. Sparks shoot off down his spine and he almost rethinks the rope. 

No, no he’s sticking to the plan tonight. Okay focus. But tomorrow he’s so getting Wash to pull his hair until he sees stars. 

Reaching up, he grabs at Wash’s wrists and smirks against his Adam’s apple as he pins them to the bed. Wash shudders under him, flexing and shifting in Tucker’s grip, but not trying to pull free. Tucker drags his teeth down Wash’s neck and moves to suck another mark just above his collarbone. But the time he’s done, Wash is practically writhing under him, little desperate gasps and breathy moans pouring out of him. 

“W-wait, Tucker--aahh--hold on a sec. Please, nngh, I want--I want--” Wash’s throat moves against Tucker’s still open mouth as he swallows, clearly trying to compose himself. 

Relenting a little, Tucker lifts himself up, looking down at Wash curiously until a lightbulb goes off. “Right, that thing you wanted to try. Shit yeah, okay. Where is it?”

“In my desk, top drawer under my datapad.” There’s a distinct flush to Wash’s face even as he tries to put on his ‘proper soldier’ voice. 

Tucker reluctantly climbs off of him, taking a second to appreciate how Wash looks--hair a mess, bruises blooming on his throat. It’s a good start. 

“Stay there.” He forgets to use his ‘I’m in charge here’ voice, but Wash still does it, hands above his head, shirt starting to creep up revealing tone skin littered with freckles and old scars. Goddamn, he’s too fucking pretty. Like a model from an ad so weird there’s no telling what it’s about, but you still know for damn sure you’re buying whatever the hell he’s selling. 

He scrambles a little on his way to the desk, way too eager to get back to business. Pulling open the top drawer, he lifts the databad and his brow furrows a little. Inside is a smooth strip of silky fabric, the color a deep aqua, a few shades darker than Tucker’s armor. He pulls it out, examining it for a second before turning to Wash. It’s not completely uniform, in the middle, it looks as though a notch has been carefully cut away. 

“A blindfold?” He slowly returns to the bed, sitting next to Wash. “You sure about this, dude?”

Because he knows bits and pieces of what Wash has been through, being stuck in the cold, the dark. There’s certain things Tucker knows they’re never trying because of it, and he had sort of assumed the whole ‘sensory deprivation’ thing (cause he’s looked this shit up) would be off the table completely.

Wash pushes himself up on his elbows, and there’s a blush staining his face, but he nods. His fingers twitch on his sheets before he reaches up and slowly pulls the blindfold from Tucker’s hand. “I like this, or I… I used to. Before everything. But after there wasn’t… there hasn’t been anyone who… but I think, with you--with you it should be alright.”

And there’s this warm, happy bubble in Tucker’s chest. 

Leaning over, he kisses Wash for a few long moments, lips sure and commanding. As he pulls away, there’s a faint whimper and Wash chases his lips. God it’s so nice that Wash is past that thing he used to do, where he would pull back full of doubt after every kiss, sure that Tucker was about to change his mind any second. 

Now he stays put, eyes half shut, shivering as Tucker drags his thumb over his lower lip. “Take off your shirt and let’s try it out. If you’re into it, then I’m gonna tie you to the bed and fuck your brains out.”

“So romantic,” Wash says, sass still there despite the hitch in his breath. 

“You fucking know it, dude. Shirt off.”

Tucker sits up so Wash can tug his shirt off. His abs go on for days and it takes a decent amount of self control not to push him back down so he can just lick every last scar and freckle. But he’s done that before. Today is about trying something new. 

“Here, let me put it on. Tell me if I make it to tight, alright?” Tucker waits until he gets a nod before he ties the blindfold into place. He tests a few spots to make sure it’s not about to slip down or bite into Wash’s skin before drawing back. “How’re you doing?”

“Good, it’s… it’s good. Green light.” So the traffic light system is an oldy but a goody. Easy to remember if shit takes a turn.

Tucker takes a second to decide how to experiment before climbing onto Wash’s lap. His fingers trail over Wash’s collarbone and there’s a little shiver in response. Ooh, that’s good, he likes that. Wash can’t tell what’s coming next like this. So when Tucker’s lips press to his neck there’s a shudder that starts at his head and goes all the way down to his toes.

He experiments with light teasing touches for several minutes, trailing his lips up Wash’s neck and down his chest, checking in with him now and then. Yeah, this is… this is really fucking good. And his color looks so fucking hot on Wash. It doesn’t take long before a flush has crept from Wash’s ears all the way to his heaving chest. 

Forcing himself to pull away, he presses a hand to Wash’s chest as he grinds his ass against Wash’s lap. There’s a low, breathy groan and he feels Wash’s hips jerk up, a growing hardness pressing against him. Alright, okay, he’s got to think how he wants to do this.

Winding a hand into Wash’s hair, he tugs back until Wash’s facing the ceiling, neck bared, a soft whine leaving him at the strain. The whine’s swallowed up by a moan as Tucker rocks their hips together. “You gonna be good for me, Wash?”

“Mm, yeah… yes.” 

“I'm gonna let you cum, gonna fuck you so good.” And he reaches down and palms Wash through his pants, getting a nice, nerdy whimper. “But first, you've gotta earn it.”

He presses down hard and Wash makes this keening sound, breath puffing out in uneven bursts. “Tucker…” he drags out the name. “Tucker, please--”

Tucker leans in and drags his tongue along the shell of Wash’s ear. There's a shudder and then Wash goes still. “You're gonna get on your knees and blow me. Gonna take it all, and then I'll find something to keep you busy till I get it up again.”

He's always bounced back lightning fast. It's definitely one of those things that makes nights like these just that much better. 

“Still good?” His voice softens there, a bit of the ‘drop and blow me’ tone leaving for a moment.

Tucker can feel Wash try to nod, but the hand in his hair doesn't let him get that far. “Good, all green. Fuck--Tucker you sound so…”

“I know, baby.” And he's smirking a little, cause yeah his voice is sexy as hell. It fucking should be with how much he's practiced. 

“Now get on your knees.”

It’s not quite as smooth as Tucker’s picturing. With the blindfold on, he has to guide Wash down and off the bed, with no small amount of swearing when their knees crack together painfully. But eventually Wash is settled on the floor, well actually on a neatly folded blanket on the floor. A sore ass and bruises where he wants them are good, but Tucker’s not letting an achey knee stay on the cold, hard floor any longer than necessary. 

He runs his hands through Wash’s hair, nails lightly dragging over his scalp. God, he’s never going to get over this, how good Wash looks on his knees, the way he goes so willingly. If he weren’t already mostly hard, that alone would be enough to get him halfway there.

“Hold up your hands.” When Wash does, Tucker takes both. One he guides to the waistband of his sweats, the other takes a detour up so Tucker can press a kiss to the lines and scars criss crossing over his palm. He smirks a little when that pulls a low groan from Wash’s throat. 

He presses Wash’s hand to his chest next, letting go so long, crooked fingers can make their way down. Tucker’s back arches a little and he so regrets that his shirt’s still on, damn it. It seems like it takes an eternity for Wash’s hands to curl into the waistband of his pants and slowly drag them down. Tucker can’t kick them off his legs fast enough as Wash’s fingers slowly explore his thighs.

And it’s a little weird, but the good kind of weird that sends little shivers along his spine, Wash not being able to see hand having to feel his way up to his dick--now that’s kind of awesome. He sees one eyebrow quirk up above the blindfold as Wash’s fingers reach the curve of his hip. “No boxers?”

“I figured they’d just get in the way. You know you love it when I go commando.” He grins and remembers a moment too late Wash can’t see him wink. 

But he gets a fond little laugh as Wash leans in and kisses his thigh. And that’s nice and all, but Tucker’s sort of got other plans here. So he reaches out and grabs a handful of Wash’s hair, tugging until he gets a nice little groan. “Hands behind your back, Wash,” he says, voice low. “I’ll get you where you need to be.”

Wash nods faintly as he moves his hands behind his back. Tucker has to lean forward a little see where he’s gripping at his own wrists to hold them in place. “So good for me,” he mutters as he takes Wash’s head in both hands and guides him forward until his cock brushes Wash’s lips. 

There’s not much that’s better than Wash’s mouth on his dick. The warm, wet heat is so perfect, making his toes curl, and it’s all he can do not to thrust straight down Wash’s throat. Gotta keep it slow, just how Wash likes. His fingers tangle tight in Wash’s hair as he starts bobbing and Tucker can’t help the long, low moan as he tosses his head back. 

“Gonna take me all the way down, Wash? Love watching you take it, could fuck that pretty face of yours all goddamn day. Maybe I’ll do that next time. Tie you down and make you blow me for hours,” he says, fingers giving Wash’s hair a little extra twist.

Wash whimpers and the bulge straining against the front of his fatigues is more obvious by the second. As much as Wash complains about Tucker running his mouth, he knows for a fucking fact that he’s got the hottest dirty talk on the whole damn planet. 

There’s a twitch to Wash’s shoulders and Tucker gives his hair another little tug. “Arms behind your back. Don’t want me to have to punish you now, do you?”

There’s a little groan, but Wash leaves his arms where they are, hands still behind his back. He’s not pushing too much tonight, fuck he’s got to be exhausted. Some nights, Wash is so wound up, he pushes until Tucker pushes back enough to get him through it. 

“Good, now relax.” He runs his hands through Wash’s hair more gently before cupping the back of his head. Tucker bites back a low groan of his own as he slowly thrusts into Wash’s mouth. He takes every inch, throat relaxing to let Tucker in, delicious little noises half muffled. Every time Tucker nearly pulls out, his tongue circles the head, lavishing it with attention that makes Tucker’s back arch and his hands tense. 

Heat builds low in his gut and Tucker has to force himself to keep his eyes open. He can’t look away. Not when Wash’s lips are bright red stretched around him, a flush creeping down his neck, so hard still trapped in his sweats. That’s what tips Tucker over the edge and he grips tight at Wash’s hair, his name on Tucker’s lips as he spills into his mouth. 

There’s a downright obscene noise as Wash swallows him down and Tucker shudders and strokes his hair as he comes back down, every muscle going loose and relaxed in the best of ways. He pulls out of Wash’s mouth and cups his chin, wiping a hint of cum from the corner of his lips. “That was fucking awesome, dude.”

Wash just moves to kiss Tucker’s thumb, lips opening willingly when he presses it past them. “Ready for part two?”

With an eager noise, Wash nods. Tucker takes a second to all but rip his shirt off over his head, because it’s way too fucking hot in here and he needs that gone like yesterday. He guides Wash back onto the bed and pushes him to lie back, stretching his arms toward the metal frame. With all the times he’s done this, Tucker could tie Wash down on autopilot. But he never does. 

He takes his time, carefully tying the rope into place, fingers lingering on Wash’s skin, checking to make sure it’s not too tight. Wash likes to pull and struggle, to leave a mosaic pattern of marks across his skin for Tucker to kiss away later. He pulls the final knot tight and straddles Wash’s hips as he runs his hands slowly down his arms. “Test the ropes for me.”

Wash complies, tugging, straining so his shoulders tense and his back arcs off the bed. The ropes don’t give and Wash groans as he settles. Tucker’s hands move over his chest, tracing old scars. “Still doing alright?”

“Yeah--yeah, I’m green. All green.” Wash is already a little breathless, the want clear in his voice, twitching at every little touch he still can’t see coming. 

Tucker braces himself on one arm and leans down, kissing Wash long and slow. For a few minutes, that’s all there is, lips on lips, a faint taste of himself lingering on Wash’s. Then the hand that’s slowly moving over Wash’s chest casually slides down to rub at him through his pants. Wash whines against his lips, hips jerking. 

“Stay still,” Tucker commands, voice low, his hand slowing, but not stopping. 

Wash whimpers, but his hips still. “Tuckerrr--”

Smirking, he cocks an eyebrow. “You want something, Wash? You know you need to ask.”

Tucker keeps up the slow motion of his hand and a whine pulls itself from the back of Wash’s throat. “I… I want--Tucker please--”

Wash cuts himself off with a shuddery little gasp and Tucker doesn’t even have to look to know he’s straining against the ropes, flexing just enough to feel them holding him in place. His little way around Tucker’s ‘no moving’ rule. Because Wash always has to push, has to test the limits just enough to get him punished. To get what he thinks he deserves. 

With a sigh, Tucker sits back, hands leaving Wash completely as he frowns down at him. “What did I say about moving? Dunno why I thought you weren’t gonna push it tonight.” 

Shaking his head, he gets up, pretending to ignore the soft noise of protest from Wash as he grabs the box from the foot of the bed. For a few moments, he rifles through it almost aimlessly, knowing Wash is paying close attention to every little shuffling sound. Huh, with the blindfold on, he doesn’t even have to pretend he’s not watching Wash shiver with anticipation. They’re so making that a regular thing. 

Vibrator in hand, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, setting it down so he can yank Wash’s sweats and boxers out of the way. There’s a little shudder as the cool air hits Wash’s already leaking cock. Tucker can’t stop himself grinning as he reaches out and drags one finger slowly from base to tip. “Jesus, you’re already aching for it, huh? Maybe I should just finish you off now--”

“No!” The word tears itself out of Wash’s throat desperately. He shakes his head faintly. “Not yet, I… I want this to last. Tucker please.”

He’s using his words, so Tucker relents, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips, smiling against them as he drags a gentle hand up Wash’s side. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you covered.”

Tucker fishes a bottle of lube out of the box, slicking up his fingers, tracing one around Wash’s entrance, grinning when he curses. “You could at least warm it up first,” Wash mutters, pouting, but Tucker just grins and gives his ass a swat. 

“Yeah, I could.” And then he slowly works Wash open. His other hand goes to his so, so red dick, fingers circling the head, teasing at the slit, pulling choked off little noises from Wash’s lips. He works a second finger in, taking his time, fingers crooking to reach that spot. Wash cries out, a shake going through him from head to toe as he tries to stay still, cock twitching against Tucker’s hand. 

Grinning, Tucker presses at Wash’s prostate again, fingers moving in little circles until Wash is shuddering, strangled moans almost closer to sobs. “Tucker please--please, it’s too much, I can’t--”

Tucker lets him babble for a second before relenting as he ducks to press a kiss to Wash’s shaking thigh. He adds a third finger, thrusting in and out slowly. Knowing Wash likes the stretch and the faint burn that comes with it, he stops there, pulling his fingers free, replacing them in only a moment with the sleek silver vibrator. Wash shivers and Tucker glances over him, watching his fingers curl tight into a fist as he lines up the toy and turns it on. 

Wash can’t bite back a shout or stop his back from arching off the bed. He shifts and squirms as Tucker cranks it up another notch, his cock leaking against his stomach. 

“Fuck, Wash, you’re so hot like this, love when you get all messy.” He pinches the base of Wash’s cock as he leans in, dragging his tongue over the tip. There’s a moan that turns into a low, needy whine as he pulls back. 

His hands go back to Wash’s trembling thighs, lightly pinching at sensitive skin as he sits back to watch for a few moments. “I could just leave you like this for hours, slap a cock ring on and crank it up to max and see what happens. Fuck, I’d have to get the whole thing on tape.”

Wash collects himself enough to scoff, but he licks at his lips and Tucker’s so tempted to chase that pink hint of tongue with his own. “You say that like--like you could wait that long,” he says, voice wavering.

“Hey, I can be patient sometimes, delayed gratification and all that shit. But if you can still talk, I’ve gotta be doing something wrong. Here, lemme fix that.” And he grins wickedly as he cranks the vibrator up to max, pulling it almost out before slamming back in. 

And Wash fucking howls, head tossed back, jaw open and slack, chest heaving. He looks like a filthy Renaissance painting, flush stretching from his hairline halfway down his chest, freckles standing out in stark contrast. Tucker’s cock twitches to attention, suddenly so, so ready for round two. 

“Tucker, I’m--I’m gonna--” God, his voice is so wrecked already, but that doesn’t stop Tucker from pinching hard at the base of Wash’s cock. His hips twitch and there’s a sort of whole body spasm as he can’t quite get over that edge and lets out a long, strained moan that sends electricity down through Tucker’s toes. 

Wash’s head lolls to one side, cursing in between uneven breaths. His hands tense and strain, fingers flexing and twitching. Tucker can see the spots where his nails have bit into his palms, little crescents dug into his skin. He’s so wound up, face bright red and clashing amazingly with the deep aqua blindfold. 

Slowly, Tucker drags his hand up and down Wash’s dick and he makes a noise like he’s about to cry. “Fuck, Tucker, please…”

“Please what, Wash? You know you’ve gotta ask.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to Wash’s hip. “Just gotta say the magic words.”

“Tucker,” Wash drags his name out in a whine, voice breaking as he pants. “Fuck me. Please. I-I need--I need you to fuck me!”

“I mean, I was thinking more like ‘Tucker, put your super huge, magic dick in me’ but that works too,” he teases, already rolling a condom on and lubing himself up. 

There’s a vague huff and he’s pretty sure he’s getting a few pointed comments for that later, but Tucker just grins to himself as he eases the vibrator out and lines himself up. Holding Wash’s hips tight, he slowly pushes in. Tight, fuck, always so fucking tight. His dick’s still a little too sensitive from last time and he can’t stop his eyes flicking shut, sparks of color bursting behind his eyes. 

“God, you feel so good, Wash. Shit, baby--you’re so good for me. Just a little more. Cum when I say, alright?” He tries to keep his ‘in charge’ voice in place, but a hint of breathlessness creeps in. 

That doesn’t stop Wash from bobbing his head in a desperate nod. Tucker’s nails bite into Wash’s hips, grip tight enough to bruise as he pushes in right to the base, a long, low groan leaving him. For a second, he stills, adjusting to the feel of Wash around him, waves of pleasure rolling over him. He’s a lighthouse in Wash’s storm and he’s riding it through to the end. 

Tucker pulls back slow then pushes back in, biting at his lip. He can feel Wash twitching around him, under his hands, trying so hard to stay still. God, he’s so good, babbling almost incoherently even as he tries to stick to the rules. 

Shifting, he slides his hands around to Wash’s ass, squeezing as he lifts him up. Ah, fuck, that’s so much better. Okay. Angling his hips, Tucker starts pounding in earnest. A choked gasping curse tells him he’s got it just right. Wash’s hands are clenched so tight, his knuckles go white, Tucker’s name spilling from his lips again and again between begging pleas. 

“Tucker, _ please _ ,” Wash cries, voice breaking, his head tossed back.

Fuck, he’s starting to get close now, his own breath growing rough and uneven, heat curling low in his gut, slowly starting to build. Wash’s cock looks like it’s almost throbbing, he’s so fucking hard. “C’mon Wash, you’ve gotta ask--”

“Please--Tucker let me cum. I need--please, TuckerTucker _ Tucker _ ,” Wash babbles and his name has never sounded so good, Jesus Christ. 

Tucker holds Wash’s hips tight as he pounds in harder, fire rushing through him. “So good, baby. Cum for me, Wash.”

Wash is so fucking pretty when he falls apart, muscles spasming around Tucker’s dick, Tucker’s color across his eyes and name on his lips as he spills over his chest. And Tucker needs that in his head forever, that perfect moment. 

It’s only a few more thrusts and he’s tipping over the edge, leaning down to bite at Wash’s shoulder as the rush sweeps over him again and for a second the world goes white. He comes back down after a few moments, breathing heavy, resting half on top of Wash. Pushing himself up, he cups Wash’s face with both hands, kissing him long and slow. 

“You good, Wash?” He pulls away a little, eyes flicking over Wash’s face. There’s a wonderful easy, blissed out smile slowly spreading over his lips as he nods. 

“Yeah… ‘s good. So good.” Wash sounds so wrecked, voice a little hoarse. 

“Alright, just stay awake till I get you cleaned up, dude.” Getting up, Tucker tosses the condom and grabs a nice, soft cloth from the box and carefully wipes Wash down. He unties his wrists, gently rubbing at the marks left behind, getting Wash to flex his fingers to make sure everything feels okay. Sitting next to him, Tucker reaches for the blindfold and then stops himself. “Shit, one sec, let me get the lights first.”

He nearly trips on the way to the light, dimming it down so Wash doesn’t get blinded. Stopping on the way back to the bed, he grabs a canteen and Wash’s favorite silly straw from his desk, the one with the little yellow cat ears and black stripes. 

Dropping back onto the bed, he helps Wash sit up, pulling him against his side before reaching up to untie the blindfold. Wash just slumps against him, tucking his head into the crook of Tucker’s neck. He blinks a few times and accepts the straw when Tucker lightly pokes at his lips with it. 

Tucker runs his hand gently up and down Wash’s back. “So, the blindfold was awesome, right? We’re so doing that again.”

Wash nods, letting out a little hum of agreement. “Yeah… it was good. It made everything… feel more. You liked it?”

“Fuck yeah, I did, dude. I can wind you up so much more with that on, like holy shit.” He’s already got plans, so many, and they’re all going to rock Wash’s fucking world. But… first he should pay attention to the soft yawn that Wash can’t quite muffle. 

Wrapping his arms around him more securely, Tucker leans both of them back against Wash’s pillows. He grabs at Wash’s blanket and pulls it over both of them, carefully tucking it in around Wash’s shoulders the way he likes. Dropping a kiss on the top of Wash’s head, he lets out a little sigh. “You’re staying in bed with me till noon.”

“Mm, I’ve got meetings,” Wash starts, already sounding half asleep. 

“Fuck ‘em. I’ve got dibs.”

Wash yawns again and Tucker’s pretty sure there’s a laugh in there. “Well, if you insist. I can’t ignore dibs protocol.”

“Damn right. Now go the fuck to sleep, Wash.”

Wash nods faintly and kisses Tucker’s collar bone, making something warm surge in his chest. “Love you.”

Tucker feels the goofy, lovestruck grin spread over his face and doesn’t bother trying to stop it. “I know.”

Wash’s breathing evens out and Tucker just watches him for a few long moments. He’s changing his mind. That moment before was good, but this… this is the one he wants to keep forever.


End file.
